


Attention!

by catphistopheles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Clint is like everyone's fave in this fic, Drunken Flirting, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Public Humiliation, Rimming, sex in empty public spaces
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catphistopheles/pseuds/catphistopheles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Military AU: SPC Steve Rogers has to deal with asshole CPL James Barnes, who just has a chip on his shoulder. After helping Barnes the boys get drunk and some flirting occurs... and now Barnes is determined to thank Steve properly.</p><p>Steve can't forget the asshole-ery of Bucky and assumes the flirting is just a joke, Bucky is a lil shit, steamy open bay showers are great for smut, and THE DOG DOES NOT DIE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone slips a porn mag under Steve's bed, and he realizes mere seconds before a room inspection.

“Shit, man, the _Corporal_ is performing barracks inspections today!” Sam hissed at Steve as he ran past Steve’s room, presumably to do a high speed clean sweep of his own room.

  
Steve froze. Typically the inspections were performed by Sergeant Holland, who was lenient and treated the guys like friends. Corporal Barnes was a well-known hardass with absolutely no sense of anything but work. He was a lower rank than Holland but took his rank way too seriously. Nothing irritated Steve and his battle buddies more than to see that insufferable ass bark out orders with his smug smirk, like he was better than them for being barely half a rank higher. It was infuriating, to put it lightly, and it hardly made for a friendly work environment.

  
Steve glanced around his room, feeling more than a little helpless. It was a mess today, mostly because he had been trying to find a specific pin for his ASU’s, and the pin in question had miraculously fallen off his uniform the day of Holland’s scheduled ASU inspections, and now Barnes decided it was barracks inspections today too?

  
He hastily began grabbing everything in site and cramming into his duffel bag. Assault pack? In the duffel. Dirty socks? Duffel. CamelBak? Duffel city. Steve got on all fours to sweep the underwear from under the bed when his fingertips grazed something glossy and definitely foreign. It was a magazine… Steve frowned and pulled it into the light.

  
And promptly dropped it like a hot potato. It was a porn mag. A porn mag with a naked, well-oiled, _buff man_ on the front.

  
He hardly had time to wonder how an issue of _Club Ramrod_ got under his bed because footsteps were approaching his room and there was no doubt whose they were.

  
He shoved the mag back under the bed, threw the last pair of underwear into the duffel, and shoved it into a back corner of his closet. A last glance around the room and Steve let out a tense breath… It was good enough to pass inspection, he hoped.

  
The footsteps neared ever closer, and with a jolt Steve remembered that he was supposed to be standing outside the room at parade rest. He scrambled out the door just in time for Corporal Barnes to round the corner and give him a look of thinly veiled disdain.

  
“Specialist Rogers, _drop_.” Barnes barked out the order with that goddamn smirk.

  
Steve fumed silently as he dropped into push ups. _Stupid Corporal with his smug-ass face and chevrons badge, acting so high and mighty when he’s the same damn pay grade as everyone else on this floor…_

  
“And what’s this?” Barnes laughed, “ _Club Ramrod_. Didn’t peg you as a guy that was into Daddies, Rogers.”

  
Oh no. Steve froze in the middle of his thirty-fifth push up, the heat flooding his face as horror bubbled up from his gut. He had completely forgotten that they check under the beds. Why, oh why hadn’t he shoved it in the damn duffel bag like everything else? The other guys in the hallway didn’t dare to break out of parade rest, but Steve heard the snickering from all directions. He would’ve given anything to sink into the floor and become one with the building at that point, but Corporal Barnes had exited his room and was holding the magazine open with a jeer. Steve resumed the push ups with wanton fury, ducking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, praying that Barnes wouldn’t… _He wouldn’t really read anything out loud_ \--

  
“‘ _This beefy stud_ ,’” Barnes began, loudly, “‘ _Could be found in the Swedish capital Stockholm when he’s not out and about filming great porn. And wouldn’t you want to bump into him one day? Preferably naked, bent over with your asshole perfectly exposed and ready to be speared by his giant uncut dick?_ ’”

  
Disregarding protocol, Steve’s battle buddies roared with laughter at the excerpt. He couldn’t just sit there and take it. As the laughter died down, he felt compelled to say something that might redeem himself.  
“That’s not mine, Corporal,” Steve ground out, panting from the push ups. _Fifty-eight, fifty-nine_ … “I don’t know how it got under my bed.”

  
Steve could hear the amusement in Barnes’ voice. “Oh you don’t?” He tossed the magazine down at his feet, crouched next to Steve’s head and dropped his voice to a mutter, “Convenient. Look, I don’t care what you prefer, you keep these crap magazines better hidden like every other fucking soldier in these barracks, you hear me, Specialist? _Recover_.”

  
Steve, much to his horror, felt a slight stirring in his groin as Barnes hot breath fanned over his ear, and was grateful with given the order to stand before things got any more embarrassing.

  
“Roger...Corporal.” Steve said as he got back on his feet and stood at parade rest by his door once more. As he watched the Corporal enter the room next door, he decided then and there to find who the hell put that stupid magazine under his bed and make them very miserable indeed.

  
And it wasn’t like he found the gay porn shameful, Steve mused, staring miserably at the wall opposite him. He was bisexual, no stranger to penises or anything of the like, but to be humiliated in front of literally everyone he socializes with on a daily basis was a bit much. And it wasn’t even his magazine! If it had been that would be another matter entirely. Steve sighed and resolved to sort the mess out once inspections were over.

  
And as for the half tent he was pitching under his ACU pants… well he was just going to chalk that up to not having had sex in a few months.

  
When the Corporal finished that floor and they were allowed back into their rooms, Steve grabbed the magazine and went looking for Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the Sad Confetti Squad I'm back at writing! This is my first attempt at gay erotica (or any erotica) and my squad has been awesome at helping me get rid of my ridiculous embarrassment regarding the smut scenes. Thanks girls!
> 
> The Army does NOT allow humiliation like that anymore, so that's the only "unrealistic" bit in this story so far. There will be other inconsistencies for the sake of the plot but for the most part it's pretty accurate. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and the next chapter will be longer.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE DOG DOES NOT DIE  
> But we find out why Barnes is a dickwad

Corporal James Barnes closed the door to his office behind him and sighed, leaning against it for support. He rubbed at his temple and squeezed his eyes shut. Sometimes he viewed his own personality as a train wreck--you couldn’t stop the shit storm until it ran out of steam. He hadn’t intended to smoke the Specialist over a simple porno mag, god knows they all had them, and it wasn’t because it was gay porn either. He just needed to blow off some steam and the unfortunate SPC was caught up in the shit storm.

“Beck, I’m back,” he muttered, rounding the desk. Beck was still curled up on the makeshift dog bed tucked under his desk, still feeble and trembling. He hadn’t moved since Barnes had left to do the inspections. Glassy, chocolate brown eyes regarded him with unmistakable love despite the condition the dog was in. “Hey buddy, how ya doin’?”

The dog’s tail thumped down on the crumpled beige blanket twice, and then fell limply. Barnes grit his teeth and curled up on the floor next to the dog, trying to comfort the dying animal with gentle strokes on his neck.

Beck was old. Eleven years is a long lifespan for a Saint Bernard, and his failing health broadcasted that loud and clear. The dog had been fine, as supple as a puppy only a matter of weeks ago, but now this… Barnes remembered buying him as a puppy at the shelter, already the size of a leggy beagle. He remembered the shelter workers’ relieved grins that Beck would finally have a home.

_Big dogs don’t last long_ , they said. _And people don’t like giant dogs too much. They tear shit up, they can knock you down if they’re too excited._

That was the preconceived notion, at least.

Beck proved them wrong on all accounts, and Barnes was damn proud of him for it. He made it to his eleventh birthday earlier this year, he preferred snuggling his chew toys, and tiptoed through the furniture and collectibles in Barnes’ house like an overly cautious bull in a china shop. But all good things, including precious dog lives, must come to an end.

Barnes was merely prolonging the inevitable. He couldn’t bear to see Beck put down, not yet. He couldn’t even stand to be away from the dog in his failing state of health, hence the bundle of blankets crammed under his desk. If Beck was dying, it should be in relative comfort, surrounded by the man that raised him… but time was running out, even Barnes had to admit it.

And he felt like an even bigger asshole for taking his grief out on the specialists today, especially Specialist Rogers.

He knew the guys didn’t like him. He knew that he took his job way too seriously and that he really, really needed to lighten up, even a little. It was his new year’s resolution, for god’s sake! But the sight of the dying dog under his desk made him miserable, and he just couldn’t help it.

His phone pinged with a text notification. Still running his hand through the Beck’s plush scruff, Barnes pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was from Holland.

Sergeant Holland, lenient as ever, had allowed Beck’s presence in the office under the circumstances. He even checked in periodically if Barnes was called away from the office during the day, just to make sure Beck was still comfortable. The text was another check in.

**How goes our Honorary PVT Furry? -SGT Holland**

**Still bad, man. -CPO Barnes**

**I found someone who might be able to help. -SGT Holland**

**Who???? -CPO Barnes**

**SPC Rogers has a background in animal meds. It’s in his file. -SGT Holland**

The phone slipped to the floor. Barnes swore under his breath and buried his face in his now empty hand. So one of his only chances of help for his beloved dog was to beg for it from a man he had just viciously humiliated?

The phone pinged again. Holland’s message was easily read from where the phone lay on the floor:

**Might be worth a shot, man. -SGT Holland**

Barnes risked another glance at Beck, who was snoring. He set his jaw. Even if he had to beg on his knees, he would get Rogers to examine the dog. He grabbed the phone and typed a quick message to Holland.

**Tell him to see me. -CPO Barnes**

 

* * *

 

“I swear to _god_ , man, I didn’t do it!” Sam gasped out in between peals of laughter. Sam was clinging to the doorknob for dear life as Steve stood stiffly in the open doorway with _Club Ramrod_ rolled up in his fist.

“Okay, but,” Steve said desperately, “Do you know who did?”

Sam straightened out, wiping tears from his eyes. “I can only think of one guy with the balls to pull a prank like that.”

Steve frowned. “You don’t mean Clint…”

“Hell yeah I mean Clint.”

Steve’s frown deepened. Clint didn’t seem like the kind of guy to pull a prank this crude, but he and Steve did have an argument about a missing PS4 game earlier in the week, and Clint was beyond territorial when it came to his deluxe edition of _Star Wars: Battlefront_. Besides that, Clint was the only guy in the barracks that actually had gay porn and casually flipped through it in polite company. He said it was a good way to weed out assholes.

“Alright,” Steve said, shoving the balled-up magazine into the back pocket of his ACUs, “Alright, we should go talk to Clint.”

“Hang on, what’s all this ‘we’ business?” Sam grinned and crossed his arms. “I’m not the one with a reputation on the line _and_ I have to pick up my ASUs from the dry cleaner off post. So you’re on your own, Stevie.”

Steve sighed and turned on his heel to march down the hall.

He was nearly at Clint’s room when his phone pinged, and the text made his heart sink.

**Rogers, report to CPO Barnes office ASAP -SGT Holland**

**Yes sir -SPC Rogers**

So he had to go see Corporal Hard-ass, did he? Steve could only hope that it was unrelated to _Club Ramrod_ , which he belatedly realized was still sticking out of his back pocket. When he made it to the barracks entry door he threw the magazine into the trash with relish.

The offices were in a building a short walk away from the barracks, for convenience. The single soldiers in the barracks could either carpool during shit weather days or walk to save gas. That, and the higher enlisted liked to keep an eye on them.

Barnes’ office was on the first floor, situated towards the back of the hall. Steve stared at the name plaque on the door, trying to build up the courage to knock, when the door suddenly swung open. Corporal Barnes stood stiffly in the doorway, not meeting Steve’s eyes.

“You gonna come in or what?” Barnes asked gruffly, stepping to the side, his eyes still fixated on the floor.

Steve stepped inside without a word and Barnes closed the door, shuffling past the former to stand behind his desk.

_“You asked to see--”_

_“I’m sorry I was an--”_

The men stopped short and chuckled. Steve relaxed slightly after hearing the half-apology come straight from the Corporal. At least the humiliation wasn’t going to continue after this.

“I asked to see you because I needed a favor,” Barnes sighed and raked a hand through his meticulously parted hair, “An’ I know it’s a dick move after what I did this mornin’ an’ I’m _seriously_ sorry, Rogers.”

Steve nodded, his eyes starting to take in the Corporal’s face. The square jaw, the straight nose and the icy grey eyes, but more than that… He could see the stress, see the tension in his shoulders and the frown lines on his forehead. That was not the face of someone who enjoyed being a dick--it was the face of someone that needed help. All personal insults or injuries from this morning forgotten, Steve wanted to help his Corporal out.

“What do you need?” asked Steve.

Barnes sighed again and gestured for Steve to come around the desk. As soon as he saw the fuzzy, shaggy mass under the desk, he gasped.

“Whoa, he’s _beautiful_!”

“He’s sick.” Barnes’ voice broke. “I think it might be the end for him, and he’s really old so it’s not a surprise or anything, but…” he cleared his throat. “Can you take a look at him and make sure there’s nothing I can do?”

Steve took one look at Barnes’ face and got to business. His hands gently touched the dog’s forehead, stroking back towards the ears. The gorgeous Saint Bernard wasn’t responding much other than opening its big eyes to gaze blearily at Steve. He checked inside the ears--all clean. He gently lifted the dog’s sagging lips and found the gums abnormally pale, and frowned. That wasn’t a good sign.

He could feel Barnes watching him intently from a few feet away as his hands began to feel around the dog’s thick neck. The lymph nodes were alright, so the likelihood of an infection was pretty low. He let his hands gently stroke down the length of the front legs, glad when the dog didn’t show any signs of discomfort at the touch. Next, he placed a firm hand on the dog’s chest and ran his hands down towards the back legs, and froze. The abdomen was hard as a rock.

_Bloat._ It was probably bloat. _Shit._

“What?” Barnes asked sharply. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?”

“When did this start?” Steve asked, just as sharply.

Barnes looked taken aback. “About three days, why?”

“And has he been eating or drinking anything? Vomiting?”

“Yeah, he couldn’t keep anything down for the first two days and now he just lays there…”

“ _Why didn’t you take him to the vet earlier_?” Steve practically yelled. He didn’t care that he was yelling at a Corporal, or that he was yelling at a very stressed man, or any of that nonsense. This dog had been suffering for three days without food or water, and it’s a miracle he hung on that long.

“Because I was afraid they’d take one look at him and tell me to put him down!” Barnes yelled back, curling his hands into fists. “He’s old and he’s sick and I can’t--I know it was stupid, and selfish ok?”

Steve stood up and grabbed Barnes’ shoulder in a vice grip, forcing the corporal to lock eyes with him. “This is serious, but fixable. You need to get him to the vet _as soon as possible_. He _needs_ this.”

Barnes broke Steve’s gaze long enough to stare at the dog under his desk. He squared his shoulders, nodded at Steve, and walked out of the office without another word.

Steve knelt by the dog again and pressed his forehead into the dog’s neck. It had been a very long time since he had to face a mortally ill animal, and there had been a reason for that. It was too damn hard, watching the dogs grow from puppies, get sick and miserable, and sometimes to have to put them down or cut them open. It was rewarding, sure, but Steve hated seeing animals suffer. The dog snuffled, whined, and snaked its tongue out to rasp at Steve’s fist, which was curled up under its chin.

“You’re gonna be okay, buddy,” he whispered. “You got an asshole for an owner, but he’s getting you help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I was in the animal medicine field (god married, had baby) but I'm hoping the diagnosis was realistic.   
> So Bucky's not intentionally a dick! That's a nice development!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys get together at their favorite bar and have an unexpected visitor. Drinking ensues.

Steve and Sam, beers in hand, slid into a booth in The Chromatic Dragon, a bustling pub just off post that catered mostly to geeky military men. The pub was small and low-ceilinged but housed an enormous 80 inch television on the far end, with plenty of worn-in leather armchairs around it. The pub owners would switch between consoles depending on the mood that night, and tonight it was none other than Battlefront, Clint’s favorite game. Indie Rock music piped through the various speakers crammed into unoccupied corners, barely audible over the TV and the ever-growing Friday night crowd.

“Yo, Brabrahs!” said none other than Clint himself once he spotted the two men from over the back of his chair. He rose and weaved through the room to greet them properly, and plopped down straddling a chair to Steve’s right, a giant, goofy grin on his face.

“So I heard you got caught with the fall exclusive issue of _Club Ramrod_ ,” he said to Steve with a cheeky wink. “Didn’t see you as the kind to go for papa bears, Rogers.”

Sam scoffed. “Like you don’t know how it got there, you hack.”

Clint pressed a hand to his chest in feigned indignance. “Moi? Frame Steve, my battle buddy, my bestest friend in the whole wide--”

“Clint.”

Steve suppressed a smile in his beer mug while watching his friends bicker. It was proof that a uniform didn’t mean shit when it came to maturity--a lesson that was reinforced on the daily by just about everyone he came in contact with.

“Okay I did it,” Clint finally admitted without remorse or shame. He looked to Steve again, “But I’m still like 99% sure that you lost my _Battlefront_. Give me back my issue of _Ramrod_ and I’ll call us even.”

It was Steve’s turn to smile. “I can’t, man. I threw it out earlier.”

Clint’s smug grin slipped. “ _You threw_ \--”

“ _Rogers_!”

The men whipped around to find none other than Corporal Barnes walking away from the bar, a small cluster of shot glasses balanced in his wide palms. Steve blinked, nonplussed. The Corporal had never been spotted at The Chromatic Dragon before… He was smiling uncharacteristically at them, and a quick glance at his two friends confirmed that Steve wasn’t the only one slightly weirded out. They weren’t used to seeing Barnes in anything but ACUs, and the sight of him in a grey v-neck shirt and blue jeans seemed to rob him of his intimidation factor.

“Corporal Barnes,” Sam nodded respectfully, his voice cautiously curious. “Not used to seeing you here. What’s the occasion?”

Barnes nodded towards Steve with an even wider grin. “This man saved my dog’s life. I’m here to thank him properly.” And with that he slammed the shot glasses down on the table.

Steve chuckled nervously. “So Beck is alright, then?”

“More than alright!” Barnes was practically beaming. “They have him all fixed up, said if I had waited any longer he really would’ve been a goner. They even said once he recovers from the bloat he should live another five years at the rate he's going! I have you to thank for that. Drink up.”

Steve eyed the shot glass dubiously. Though he frequented the pub, he didn’t usually like drinking. He had a history with alcohol… Meaning he usually got very grabby and vocal about his innermost thoughts and that usually led to uncomfortable mornings. Not to mention that Barnes had unknowingly given Steve a boner earlier that same day, so everything about this situation screamed “BAD IDEA.” But he was eager to try to get Barnes to loosen up at the office, and maybe drinking together was the solution.

He took the glass, and Clint and Sam grabbed theirs.

“To healthy dogs and competent soldiers!” Barnes toasted with a dazzlingly white smile.

They all knocked the shots back without so much as a wince, though Steve’s eyes watered slightly as the alcohol sizzled down his throat.

“God damn,” Clint whistled. “That’s some high-ass quality tequila! I’m going to buy another round! And some limes…” He immediately scrambled down from the chair and wedged through the crowd at the bar.

Steve had a very bad feeling about this.

 

* * *

 

He woke up the next morning in last night's clothes with a killer headache, a very dry mouth, and a slyly grinning Clint in a chair at the foot of his bed. He let out a shout of surprise and immediately regretted it as his head started pounding even worse.

“Morning, Sunshine!” Clint said in a blisteringly cheerful voice. Steve winced and threw his pillow at him, but missed.

“Whatever has you happy, it can’t be good,” Steve groaned, pressing his forearm against his eyes. He was praying for the pounding in his head to stop but knew better. How much had he had to drink last night, anyway? He couldn’t remember much of anything from last night…

Clint wrapped what he thought was a comforting hand around Steve’s ankle, which was the only part he could reach at the moment. “Do you remember _anything_ from last night?”

“No. God, _why_? What did I do?”

“Oh, not much.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Clint. What--Did--I--Do?”

“Well since you asked,” his friend grinned hugely and gave his ankle a reassuring squeeze. “You had about 12 shots with Barnes, who insisted we start calling him ‘Bucky’, by the way. And then you got-- _talky_.”

Steve froze, horror clawing up his spine. Talky could mean that he rambled about international soccer players or that he told Barnes about his boner that morning and ruined any potential friendship forever.

“Talky how?”

Clint hesitated. He sat upright, his panic steadily mounting with every passing millisecond.

“Clint, talky HOW?”

“Well, you might have flirted,” he cleared his throat. “Shamelessly.”

Oh no… No no no _no_ , he did not flirt with Corporal Barnes--Bucky--whatever he wanted to be called now, Steve did not flirt with him! It couldn’t be true. Nope, Clint was making it up. Clint is a dick sometimes, this had to be a dick move right?

_Well you could’ve done worse_ , said a little snarky voice in his head. _Bucky is damn sexy_.

‘Damn sexy’ didn’t really do him justice though, Steve thought. Bucky has a sturdy build, and a jawline put together by the gods themselves. And those grey eyes that just stabbed right through your chest when he looked at you… And that smile they saw last night, holy shit--

“Oh my god, you’re having gay thoughts!” Clint squealed, clambering to his feet. “YOU ACTUALLY THINK BARNES IS HOT!!”

“SHUT UP AND GET OUT!” Steve threw his only remaining pillow and this time hit his mark with a whump. Clint, seemingly unaffected, tossed the pillow back to Steve and promptly left the room. Steve could hear his cackling laughter all the way down the hall. He groaned.

If he really had flirted with Barnes, he had to hope Barnes didn’t remember it. That could fuck up everything. What if Barnes wasn’t gay? Worse, what if he was _homophobic_? It wasn’t uncommon in the army. Steve had wanted to bring him out of his shell, not shove him into it and nail it shut!

The only real solution was to avoid Barnes in case he did remember. The whole weekend lay ahead of him. Barnes lived off post, so the likelihood of seeing him in the barracks for the next two days was next to none. And by Monday, with PT at 6am and work the rest of the day, who could remember a bit of gay flirting?

At least, that’s what he hoped…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently (according to google at least) there IS a pub in Savannah, GA named The Chromatic Dragon. I've never been there, have no rights to it, etc. But I seriously wish a bar like the one described above existed, I'd never leave.
> 
> This chapter is a little roughly written, I was mildly tipsy when I wrote it... apologies.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut smutt

Much to Steve’s relief there was no sign of Barnes for the entire weekend. He sacrificed his Saturday at The Chromatic Dragon to make sure they didn’t bump into each other, which meant his weekend was boring as fuck but it was worth it if it meant he could stave off an awkward encounter.

The bad thing about this weekend and the after-booze scare was that he was having very graphic dreams about the Corporal in question--dreams that weren’t helping his situation at all. He didn’t need to be thinking of Bucky backing him into the counters downstairs, or getting to his knees in the shower, or--or--

He groaned and fisted his hair. He had a boner, again.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and reminded him yet again that PT was to start in five minutes. He took a deep breath and smoothed his hair down and readjusted his dick so it was tucked upright into the elastic of his PT shorts. That would have to do until it went down, and nothing killed a boner like exercise, right?

**Twenty Minutes In:**

WRONG. SO WRONG. Bucky was leading PT this morning in the cruelest twist of fate Steve had ever encountered. The testosterone pulsing through his system, coupled with the inappropriate dreams he’d experienced all weekend made for the most awkward PT he’d ever had.

Watching Bucky glistening with sweat, panting, muscles flexing and straining, it was all torture. His dick was raging hard through the entirety of PT, and Prone Rows were horrible. And every time he glanced at Bucky, it seemed like Bucky was staring right at him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last like this…

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky’s mouth was watering, watching Steve’s ass clench under the PT shorts as he lifted his torso and legs off the ground. Thank god for Prone Rows. For once in his military career, Bucky was grateful for the most awful exercise in the Army’s regimen.

Part of him felt very bad for salivating after his specialist. It wasn’t right, and it could get them both in a lot of trouble, and there was no actual way of telling if Rogers was actually gay. Sure, he had found a porn mag under his bed, but he heard Barton taking responsibility for it before he joined the guys at the table. And then about four shots in, Steve started flirting.

It started with a hand resting innocently on his forearm. Then Steve started blushing, and looking up at him through those long eyelashes. And then he was complimenting his body and giving him bedroom eyes, and it was all Barnes could do to get out of the bar before he did something they’d both regret. And by the look on Roger’s face every time their eyes met, he definitely already regretted it.

But he was _blushing_.

And Barnes was almost--almost --positive that he saw a glimpse of a boner under Steve’s shorts. Then again, it could just be morning wood…

“Position of attention, move,” Barnes barked out, thinking up a wicked idea and watching as his battalion straightened into attention, “The High Jumper. Start position, move, in cadence. _Exercise_.”

He swore he heard Rogers groan, and grinned. They all started the movements in sync, and Barnes’ eyes were trained on the front of Steve’s shorts. Sure enough, the boner was still there… long after it should’ve subsided if it were just morning wood. His mouth watered again just looking at the length of it, and his mind wandered to how it would taste…

Ok that’s it. He, Corporal James Barnes, was going to find out if Steve was gay and if he was… if he was he was going to break out every seduction technique he knew in order to taste that dick.

Maybe after tasting the dick, he’d taste the asshole and--Oh christ, he had a boner now. First things first, they had to finish PT. He’d take care of himself in the showers.

_The showers_! Bucky had another idea. He typically went to his house off-post to shower off and get dressed in ACUs for the day, but he knew that Steve used the open bay showers over the one closer to his room because it was faster. Nobody would think much of it if Bucky decided to use the open bay showers that day… and then he could test and see if Steve actually had the hots for him.

“Position of attention,” Barnes barked. He guided the men through the cool down stretches, and ordered them to fall out. As the men scattered and meandered to the barracks, Barnes only had eyes for Steve.

Barnes watched him grab his small black bag that he’d left several feet away from the PT zone and head to the bathrooms in the basement. Barnes usually kept a spare pair of ACUs in his car in case of emergencies, but he was SOL when it came to a towel. He’d figure out a way to dry off.

The open bay showers were dingy and beige, like the rest of the barracks. Back in the Vietnam days this section of the base and barracks was used as a basic training station, which are the only places that still utilize open bay showers. In more updated barracks every two rooms share a bathroom with a shower, and the army had been mid-renovation when they suddenly stopped due to whatever reason, so this particular barracks building had private bathrooms upstairs as well as the open bay one downstairs. Because of the outdated, worn-down appearance the men would rather form lines in the upstairs showers than use these ones, but Steve seemed to enjoy the privacy and speed granted by the nearly abandoned showers.

He took his time gathering the set of ACUs out of the trunk of his car, giving Steve time to start up the showers and get the steam going. When he finally descended the stairs, he cracked open the swinging door and froze as a small amount of steam cleared at the same time as he heard a small moan come from Steve at the other end of the bathroom.

His mouth went dry as he slowly realized what he was seeing.

Steve Rogers, dripping with sweat and water, standing under the spray like some sort of heavenly vision, eyes clenched tight, leaning his forehead on an arm that was propped against the tile, and his other arm stroking his length slowly but firmly, as if to savor the sensation. His abs clenched, rippling with tension, and his mouth fell open as another moan tumbled out, music to Bucky’s ears.

He should walk away and let Steve have his privacy. He should turn around and march back up the stairs right now. But as Bucky’s foot started to shift a step back he heard something that immediately changed his mind.

“B-Bucky! God,” Steve sighed, increasing the speed on his dick. His biceps bulged with the rough strokes. The longer Bucky watched, the harder his own dick got, pitching a very strong tent in the loose fabric of his PT shorts. He looked down and slowly slid his own hand into his shorts to grip his own length. As his fist closed around his dick, a shiver ran up Bucky’s spine. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as he imagined Steve’s lips wrapped around the girth of it, those lush lips stretched tight, the blue eyes blown with lust as they gazed up at him…  

He started to stroke in time with Steve, breathing growing more ragged with every passing second, visualizing his dick pounding into Steve from behind, watching Steve’s muscular back stretch to the brink with coiled tension and pleasure until--

“Ahh, BUCKY!” Steve cried roughly, and Bucky’s eyes snapped open just in time to watch Steve's head tilt back as cum splatter the tiles, spilling over his hand and dripping down his thighs. The image was so hot, so perfect, that it triggered Bucky’s own release without warning, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out Steve’s name as his own cum ran down his thighs. Both he and Steve stayed like that, basking in the aftermath of their climaxes, panting heavily.

Bucky snapped out of it first. He realized that Steve would be ending his shower soon and that he still had to take one before work started, so he quietly tiptoed back a few steps and made a show of stomping down the stairs. He heard a slight commotion from the bathroom and assumed Steve had heard and was furiously scrubbing himself clean before anyone found him covered in semen.

With exaggerated groan of relief, Bucky threw the doors open to the bathroom and pretended to have just noticed Steve, who looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Didn’t think anyone still used these shitty things,” Bucky said, gesturing at the room. He made sure to rake his gaze up and down Steve’s naked body, watching as a blush bloomed from Steve’s chest all the way to his forehead. “Hope you didn’t get a hangover after Friday. Sorry if I made you go overboard.”

Steve stammered out something that sounded like “Don’t worry about it” and went about hurriedly scrubbing his body, actively avoiding eye contact with Bucky. Bucky smirked.

He sauntered over to the shower head _directly next_ _to Steve’s_ and shucked off his PT shirt, taking extra care to flex his biceps and abs as he did so. He thought he heard Steve take a shuddering breath, but when he looked up Steve was still staring at the wall. He turned on his showerhead with a jerk and took a few steps back to peel out of his soiled shorts so Steve wouldn’t see the evidence. Once he had kicked the shorts under a bench he stepped into the heavenly warm spray of the shower and sighed happily.

His eyes were closed as the water ran down his face, but he heard Steve pause, and knew he was watching him.

“Sorry for breaching your inner sanctum, Rogers,” Bucky drawled. “There’s construction on the road home and I couldn’t make it there and back in time.”

“N-no, no, not at all,” Steve stammered, and Bucky heard the scrubbing commence again. Bucky tried not to sigh in frustration. Steve clearly wasn’t very talkative post-coitus.

“Hope I wasn’t too _hard on_ you this morning,” Bucky intoned, grinning and throwing caution to the wind.

There was a thump and Bucky finally opened his eyes to see Steve staring at him with his eyes and mouth wide open in unconcealed horror, his bar of soap between his feet. He grinned, and winked, and Steve gave a full body blush and snapped his mouth shut, stooping quickly to retrieve the soap. It took all Bucky had in him to keep from making a snarky comment just then. As Steve surfaced with the soap clenched tightly in his fist, their eyes met and left Bucky breathless.

The blond hair slicked back all but for a few strands that left water dripping down his forehead. The crystal blue eyes, darkened with--lust? The dusting of a blush darkening that perfect face. Plush lips parted, and a tantalizing glimpse of a tongue. Bucky’s eyes traced a droplet of water as it fell from Steve’s hair to his cheek, down his neck, down to his sculpted collar bone and pecs, where it caught on his nipple, which hard enough to cut glass. Nipples that Bucky just wanted to work with his tongue until Steve arched up into his mouth, crying with need and want, unable to distinguish them from one another. Bucky’s mouth went dry and he snaked his tongue out to moisten his lips.

Steve’s gaze flickered down to watch and his breath caught. It was then that Bucky realized just how close the two had gravitated during their stare down… the men were merely inches apart, chests heaving. Sure that they were about to touch, about to enjoy each others’ bodies in a fit of lust, Bucky closed the space between them. Just as their erect dicks touched, Steve let out a wild gasp and flew back as if possessed--right into the stream of the shower, which had long since run cold. With an undignified squawk Steve dived out from under the freezing shower stream, grabbed his towel from the bench, and dashed out of the bathroom, leaving Bucky struggling to make sense of what had just happened. As doors banged shut Bucky couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin that stretched across his face.

There was no longer any doubt in his mind--Steve Rogers did want him. And that was the best news he’d had all week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO SHORT I'm so sorry. It looks so much more impressive in google docs! haha
> 
> Extra special thank you for the Sad Confetti Squad for helping me to overcome my fear of the word "nipple" even though it took a shitload of teasing to do it. 
> 
> Fun fact: My husband is in the army, and bless him for not giving me a weird look when I asked him "What's the most painful PT exercise to do when you have a boner?"


	5. Chapter 5

Steve sprinted up the stairs, towel clenched firmly around his waist with one hand, his PT bag in the other, not caring if anyone saw him mostly naked. His mind was racing, his _heart_ was racing, and he was pretty sure his face was the color of a ripe tomato. Corporal Bucky Barnes had just _made a pass at him_ in the _showers_. What was he supposed to make of that? What in the world did it _mean_? He shoved open the set of double doors that led to the hallway and paused.

Well of course it meant that Bucky had a thing for him. Bucky _wanted_ him. And god help him, he wanted Bucky as well. His dick had confirmed as much when he saw the way Bucky was looking at him in the showers, glittering desire that darkened his steely eyes as they caressed the length of Steve’s neck and chest… it was all Steve could do to keep from grabbing the corporal and snogging the shit out of him right then and there. He wanted to rake his fingers through that chestnut hair, he wanted to fist it while Bucky was between his thighs, wanted to run his hands through it as Bucky was thrusting into him--

Even though Steve had just masturbated, just come all over his hand and the tiles and on his own _stomach_ , the sight of Bucky standing there, naked, in all his toned and arrogant glory, made Steve’s cock go immediately hard.

Then their chests had touched. Steve shuddered, remembering the fire that shot through him at the feel of Barnes’ solid muscles pressed against his. His brain had emptied of all thought at that point, running a constant dialogue of _wantwantwantwant_. And then their dicks grazed and it had felt as though he had been punched in the gut with lust, and the shock of it had sent him running.

Steve paused in the barracks hallway on his way to his room, grounding himself somewhat with the muted noises of his battle buddies readying themselves for work.  He needed to talk to someone about this. He needed to get advice, he needed…

Aw, shit, he needed _Clint_.

He turned on his heel and marched up to Clint’s door, not even bothering to knock.

“Well shit, rude much?” Clint asked. He was sitting on his bed and tightening the velcro straps at the end of his sleeves, his boots half-laced. It took a second for Clint to really see Steve and take in his current condition, and once it registered in his brain Clint was suddenly less chipper. “What happened?”

Steve let himself in and closed the door, scrambling to get dressed while he related the entire story to Clint, who’s jaw could not have hung any lower if he tried. And yet Steve could see the excitement building behind the shocked expression on his friend’s face, and as he finally finished tying up his own boots he readied himself for the Clintsplosion.

But it didn’t come.

Instead what happened was that Clint grabbed Steve by the elbow, looked him dead in the eye and said, “Do you want to file a SHARP complaint?” SHARP was the sexual harassment guidelines and rules for the armed forces, and was the very last thing Steve expected his flirtatious friend to bring up, but his heart was warmed by the sentiment. He grinned.

“No, man… I don’t feel harassed. Frustrated and embarrassed, maybe. But not sexually harassed.” Steve nodded at Clint’s boots, which were still undone, and Clint chuckled and stooped to do them up.

“Okay, next question--You know you have CQ today, right?”

Steve dropped his PT bag. “ _Today_?”

“Er, yes,” Clint straightened and sheepishly rubbed at his neck. “I was supposed to tell you this weekend and completely forgot.”

“CLINT!” Steve shouted indignantly. He glanced at his watch in a panic. CQ started at nine in the morning, which was two minutes from now. He had time to get there--if he ran like a bat outta heck. Steve immediately yanked the door open and ran as fast as he could to the end of the hall, down three flights of stairs, and burst into the common area on the ground floor. He braced his hands on his knees and tried to regain his breath, tamping down the panic when a glance at the wall clock told him he had gotten there _literally_ just in time.

A chuckle from the kitchen made him jump and whirl to see none other than Corporal Bucky Barnes leaning against the counter, watching him with open amusement.

“Didn’t think you’d make it in time, Stevie.”

_Oh fuck me_ , Steve thought helplessly.

Twenty four hour duty in an empty common area with a man that clearly wanted to bone him. This week can’t get any worse.

“Clint--forgot--to--tell--me,” Steve panted, standing upright again and regarding his corporal with caution. Bucky had cleaned up well, his hair was combed neatly to one side, and he looked distinctly un-rumpled. Steve hated him for all his poise after this morning’s... _incident_. Suddenly self-conscious, he raked his fingers through his damp hair and hoped it held some semblance of neatness.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth tilted up as he watched, and he slowly pushed away from the counters and sauntered over. Steve’s breath caught as Bucky got closer, and closer. They were practically nose to nose now, and Steve’s whole being was thrumming with tension, anticipation, and want. Bucky’s eyes seemed to search Steve’s for something, and then he lifted his hands as if to grasp Steve’s face--

“Steve you forgot your ha-- _oh fuck that’s hotter than I thought it’d be_.”

The soldiers shot apart as if hit by lightning and glared at the intruder. Clint, Steve growled mentally. Of course it was Clint.

Clint was glancing between them, looking like an awed deer in the headlights. He lifted the hat clenched in his hand and waved it as if it were a flag of surrender.

“Sorry guys, just making sure everyone is in accordance to the dress code,” he babbled, a grin slowly overtaking his face. “Don’t want anyone to get in trouble. Not that either of you would or should because I just--Good luck! And use protection!”

And with that he tossed Steve his hat, winked, and ducked out of the room.

Steve felt like sinking into the wall again. He rubbed his face with his palm, trying to erase the embarrassment, which didn’t work. God dammit, Clint.

“He’s weird as fuck,” Bucky snorted, crossing the room to switch on the ancient TV. He sank, nonchalant, into the busted sofa and kicked his boots up on the coffee table as if nothing had almost happened. Steve wasn’t sure what to do next, so he sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and punched in, so to speak. It was going to be a very long twenty-four hours.

 

Bucky’s mind was buzzing. That’s twice now-- _twice_ in a single day that he’d been so close to claiming Steve’s lips. Every single fibre of his being was aching to make Steve his, but it wasn’t safe… not in the common area, and not in the middle of the day, that’s for damn sure. Clint’s arrival had proven that much.

So he settled for watching horribly staticky daytime television on the archaic cathode ray tube set, wondering briefly if he was at risk for radiation poisoning for using it. He shrugged internally. He didn’t really want kids anyways.

The day passed quickly enough with minimal communication between the two men. Sergeant Holland stopped in for a bit during lunch to chat, asking after Beck’s health and chatting about his family’s well being and so forth. Some single soldiers wandered in to watch TV when their shift ended, making small talk. Bucky didn’t care. His eyes were trained on Steve, on how his face would brighten whenever he greeted someone or engaged in conversation, about the way he’d throw his head back and laugh with such enthusiasm Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle along. At one point when Bucky glanced over at Steve, who was lounging on the loveseat with a sketchbook propped up in his lap, his curiosity piqued.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Steve glanced up, startled. “What? Oh. It’s a sketchbook.”

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes. “I know that. What are you _sketching_?”

“Oh. Um,” Steve suddenly went a bit pink around the ears. “Just stupid stuff.”

“Can I see?” Bucky asked.

There was a marked change in Steve’s expression, and it was definitely panic. Bucky could barely hold back a smirk as Steve quickly slammed the sketchbook shut. What could the shy specialist have possibly drawn? Porn? Huge cocks?

“Give me the sketchbook, and that’s an order.”

Steve blanched. “But Bucky--”

“Corporal Barnes right now. I gave you an order, _specialist_.” Bucky didn’t miss the small shudder that travelled down Steve’s frame, but filed it away to analyze another time. He held his hand out expectantly, lifting his eyebrows in a silent challenge. With a gulp, Steve handed the sketchbook over, avoiding his corporal’s eyes.

Bucky grinned and flipped through the pages quickly, trying to find the last used page. Steve was damn good, his portraits were perfectly detailed and shaded, the landscapes looked like photographs, and the shirtless portrait of Bucky was right on.

Wait…

He flipped back a few pages and his eyes bugged out. Steve had drawn him shirtless, staring off to the right, fists clenched and biceps bulging, his trademark smirk perched on his lips. Bucky was flattered… and mildly aroused thinking of Steve putting all this work in while thinking of him. He should really repay the poor specialist.

He glanced up at Steve, who had his face buried in his hands, only his burning red ears visible.

Oh yes. Bucky was going to wreck him.

“Stand up.” He commanded, placing the sketchbook on the sofa.

Steve swallowed audibly and removed his hands from his face but averted his eyes. He stood slowly, stood stiffly, waiting for what was going to happen next.

“So you’ve been thinkin’ about me shirtless, huh, Steve?” Bucky practically purred. Steve chose not to answer, chose to watch Bucky’s approach with heavily lidded eyes full of want. Bucky walked closer until their chests were touching. He gave Steve a cheeky grin and tilted his head to murmur in his ear,

“ _I’ve been thinkin’ about you naked, laid out on that counter and begging for my cock_.”

Steve gasped, and his large hands enclosed around Bucky’s shoulders, wrenching him back to kiss him full on the mouth. Steve’s mouth was plush and passionate and Bucky had never felt more alive. After a moment’s hesitation Bucky entwined a hand in Steve’s hair, gripping tightly, and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He was rewarded with a deep groan of appreciation from Steve.

The kiss was fierce and fiery and fast, the boys finally releasing all the tension that had grown between them in the past several days. Bucky took charge of the kiss, licking languidly into Steve’s mouth and entwining their tongues in a sinful dance that made Steve groan with need. Bucky opened one eye to check the clock on the wall, relieved to see it was nearing midnight and nobody would be entering the common area, and broke the kiss shortly after.

Steve was dazed, his lips were swollen and his breath came in heavy pants, and he had an obvious tent in his trousers. The sight made Bucky’s mouth water with anticipation.

“I want you by the counter, _now_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like my cliffhangers. 
> 
> But in reality I need to start the next chapter on a clean slate, and it's already in the works. So that chapter will maybe take a few days to iron out and voila! Y'all have your porn. :D
> 
> This hasn't really been edited at all or even read all the way through by the usual group so there may be issues, feel free to point them out.
> 
> As a side note, trying to write kissing scenes is ridiculously hard. It's harder for me than trying to incorporate the word "nipples" into a paragraph. So I apologize in advance about the next chapter, because I'm seriously worried the kissing is going to sound like two dead fish hocking lugies into each others mouths.
> 
> And with that glorious mental image, thank you for reading! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Steve stumbled towards the counter, fingers fumbling the simple velcro closures of his uniform as he went, and he felt Bucky’s hands give him a firm shove so that he was bent over the counter, face down against the cheap lacquer. Bucky raked his fingers down the expanse of Steve’s back and back up again, yanking his top and undershirt up.

 

Steve’s eyes glazed over as he felt Bucky’s lush mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses down his spine, one of his hands reaching around to tug open his belt. Steve’s own hands scrabbled uselessly on the slick countertop, trying to gain purchase as he was swept away with the sensations. He could feel Bucky’s breath caressing his lower back, Bucky’s knees nudging the heels of his boots--and then he hooked both hands in the back of Steve’s pants and pulled them down, hard.

 

The cool air hit Steve’s ass, making him hiss. He heard Bucky huff out a laugh behind him, and then the smirking asshole had flipped him over so he was bent _back_ over the counter, gazing up into those steel-rimmed lusty eyes.

 

“I’m going to make you come so many times tonight, you know that, Rogers?” Bucky murmured, swooping down to claim Steve’s lips in a possessive kiss that made Steve’s knees tremble.

 

“God _yes_ ,” Steve whispered once Bucky had broken for air. Bucky wasted no time, ripping the ACU top apart, tossing it over his shoulder. The undershirt followed shortly, leaving Steve bare except for his uncomfortably tight briefs and the pants and boots clinging to his ankles. Bucky knelt for a moment to free the belt from the loops of Steve’s pants, and then straightened with a wicked grin. Steve’s brow furrowed. _What the hell…_

 

He wasn’t confused for long at all. Bucky reached up and squeezed his wrists together and looped the belt around them, tightening it until the nylon bit into his skin. Steve felt a thrill run through him and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could barely cope with the excitement, the lust, the pounding of his own heart--it was all overstimulating him in the most amazing way possible and now he was bound and unable to do a thing about it but beg. But he didn’t get a chance to.

 

“Now for the fun part,” Bucky rumbled, cupping Steve’s erect dick in one hand, tweaking a nipple with the other. His mouth soon closed over the other nipple, causing Steve to cry out from the intense sensations. Bucky palmed his dick roughly and Steve began to pant with need.

 

Steve felt Bucky press chaste kisses down his abdomen, pausing to lick the contours of his adonis belt, and the hot velvety heat of Bucky’s tongue on such a sensitive area made him arch upwards. Hands clamped down on his hips to keep him still and he opened his eyes a crack just in time to see Bucky’s eyes lock with his as he slid his underwear down with his teeth.

 

His erection sprang free and Bucky’s eyes dropped to the impressive length of it before he _licked his fucking lips_ and leaned in to suck on the head, hands tightening just in time to keep Steve from thrusting up into that heavenly wet heat.

 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut again, his mouth falling open to let out a groan of appreciation when Bucky’s tongue circled the crown of his dick and sucked. And when Bucky started to bob his head, _Christ_ , Steve could barely take it. He wanted to thrust into his mouth, but Bucky wouldn’t let him, he was  torturing him. His knees almost gave way. He choked back a cry, biting his lip when Bucky took pity on him and deep throated him without any further teasing.

 

Steve nearly screamed. The tension rushed into his lower belly, his abs clenching so hard it hurt, and that’s when Bucky released Steve’s hips and massaged his entrance with his fingertips.

 

The combined sensations did him in almost immediately. Steve came harder than he ever had in his life, sobbing Bucky’s name, thrusting into his mouth, every single inch of his body trembling with the force of his release.

 

Steve expected him to be done for the night, but he was very wrong. Bucky released his limp dick with a soft _pop_ and rose up until he was face to face with Steve. Bucky was wearing a sinful smile, and he pressed his lips gently, sensually, against Steve’s. Steve kissed him back eagerly and tasted himself on Bucky’s tongue, which turned him on far more than he thought possible. He was already at half-mast, though the slight friction from Bucky’s pants was almost too much to handle.

 

“I’m not done with you yet,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s lips. “Turn over, flat against the counter.”

 

Shakily, Steve obeyed. The counter felt cold against his overheated skin, but he didn’t have much time to think because he had just realized Bucky’s breath was ghosting over his ass.

 

“What are you--”

 

“Shh,” whispered Bucky as he kneaded Steve’s asscheeks, spreading them apart to expose his hole. “Just be a good boy and enjoy.”

 

“Enjoy wh-- _uhhhhn_!” Every muscle in Steve’s body clenched, his eyes opened wide in pleasurable disbelief as Bucky gently lapped at his entrance. “ _Fuck_! F-fuck Bucky, god, _I can’t_!”

 

“Relax babe,” Bucky murmured coaxingly from below, “I’m just doing this till you’re prepped n’ ready.”

 

Bucky buried his face against Steve again and through the fog of all-consuming pleasure Steve somehow managed to ask, “Prepped for what?”

 

Bucky chose not to answer him with words. Instead he stood and leaned over Steve again, pressing a hand on his neck to keep him down against the counter, his other hand slowly sinking a finger knuckle-deep into Steve’s ass. Steve’s eyes crossed at the, it was such a delightful stretching sensation. Bucky’s fingers probed gently as he began to slowly pump in and out and then he found--

 

“ _Hhhoooohgod_!” Steve slurred, squeezing his eyes shut. That had to be his prostate, there was no other explanation. He had always wondered what it would feel like but he had not been prepared for the intense, heavenly tingling sensation that erupted at the head of his dick. Bucky leaned closer and brushed his lips against Steve’s jaw.

 

“That’s it, baby, let me see you _wrecked._ ”

 

* * *

 

Bucky felt an almost sadistic flare of pleasure, seeing Steve pressed up against the counter, his breath fogging up the surface. His wrists bound over his head, hands balled into fists in an attempt to ground himself,  he formed the perfect picture of destructive pleasure. He wanted to see Steve stripped of all his boundaries and here he was. And Steve was all _his_.

 

He tightened his hand on the back of Steve’s neck and continued to rub gently at his prostate. The little noises his lover was panting out, the thousand-mile stare when he finally opened his eyes, not really _seeing_ anything... Bucky’s dick was harder than it had ever been and he couldn’t wait to bury himself balls deep in Steve’s ass.

 

He added another finger and grinned when Steve whimpered pitifully. The muscles in his back had tensed up with the wider intrusion but his ass loosened up seconds later.

 

Bucky chuckled.

 

“Your ass is practically _begging_ for more, Stevie.”

 

A soft, broken cry answered him. Steve had a weakness for filth and he was just the guy to use it. He continued his movements at the same slow, deep, sensual pace, just enough to frustrate the man into thrusting back onto his fingers out of sheer desperation.

 

He added another finger and gave Steve what he wanted.

 

Steve was actually sobbing, begging, praying for mercy. The muscles in his back were trembling with the tension and the pleasure and the debauchery. Bucky grinned like the cat that got the cream and began to add a little twist to his fingers on the thrust in. The new motion rubbed firmly on Steve’s prostate and it only took three strokes before Steve tensed tight as a bow string and came, splattering the cabinets.

 

It took Steve a minute to come down from that high. He continued to gasp and jerk, and Bucky slowly eased his fingers out of his ass and released his grip on Steve’s neck. He kissed Steve’s back gently, reverently, _lovingly_.

 

_Because face it_ , Bucky thought with a smile, _after seeing an orgasm that exquisite, he wasn’t going to let Steve walk away_.

 

When Steve finally opened his eyes and glanced back at him, Bucky grinned.

 

“Back to the land of the living?”

 

“Guh,” Steve gulped out, making to push himself up on his elbows, “What about you?”

 

“I still intend to fuck you if that’s what you’re asking,” Bucky replied seriously. “But only if you want me to.”

 

Steve made direct eye contact as he spun to face Bucky. With his still-bound wrists, he opened Bucky’s belt and pants and sunk to his knees.

 

_“I want you to.”_

 

Those whispered words were all he wanted to hear. He knew what Steve was going to do but didn’t want it--not this time. He’d fuck his mouth some other day. Today… Today he was going to fuck Steve’s tight ass  and claim him properly. He pulled Steve up and kissed him lazily, enjoying the way their mouths synced. While he was distracting Steve with kissing he retrieved a foil packet from his uniform shirt pocket and shoved his own pants and underwear down.

 

Bucky broke away from Steve long enough to tear the packet open with his teeth and roll on the condom, and then he turned Steve back around to face the counters. Bucky heard Steve’s breath hitch with excitement as his fingers gently probed his ass to make sure he was still slick from the rimming, and he was pleased to find that it was.

 

“Are you ready?” Bucky asked.

 

“ _Fuck me_ ,” Steve growled, bracing his bound hands on the counter.

 

Without further ado, Bucky began to push slowly into Steve, hissing at the tightness that gripped his length. Steve let out a low, wonton, ragged moan and pressed back against Bucky impatiently.

 

“Don’t wanna hurt you, babe,” Bucky ground out. When he was fully and truly _in_ Steve they both exhaled shakily. The pleasure was real, all-consuming, mind-blowing. Bucky thrusted shallowly and delighted in hearing the soft cry that escaped from Steve.

 

“Bucky, _move_!” Steve begged.

 

Bucky obliged. They started slow, savoring every little sensation, but that didn’t last long. The tension between them had been building for a week and now that they were finally resolving it, nothing could stop them.

 

It got rough fast.

 

Bucky grabbed a fistful of Steve’s hair and wrenched him upright so he could bite the blond’s neck possessively. Steve rocked back to meet Bucky’s thrusts. Bucky ripped the belt off his wrists and then grabbed Steve’s dick and Steve immediately reached back to grab and claw at Bucky’s neck.

 

They forgot everything else. They forgot that they were in a public building, in a public space, that anyone could walk in at any time. Steve was now screaming Bucky’s name and the slapping sound of skin echoed through the small room.

 

Steve came first. The sound and sight of it sent Bucky over the edge seconds later. Bucky slowly pulled out of Steve so as not to hurt him, and they both slumped over the counter to recover.

 

The door slammed open and both Steve and Bucky lunged to cover themselves. Standing in the doorway, eyes wild with panic, was Clint.

 

“Guys, you need to get dressed _right now_ , someone tipped off Holland and he’s on his way!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you want to see the absolute chaos that had to happen in order to make this chapter a thing, look no further.
> 
> Basically we're a bunch of silly idiots. 
> 
> Special thanks to Cherry and Uni for helping me out with the editing of this chapter, though I posted it without asking for their expertise at the end so there's probably a VERY marked difference in quality, punctuation, continuity, etc.   
> ... I just got really impatient with it.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the porn, and I'm sorry for the delay in posting!


	7. Chapter 7

“Guys, you need to get dressed  _ right now _ , someone tipped off Holland and he’s on his way!”

Clint dove around on the floor, flinging the Steve’s clothes at him and uttering a steady stream of curses. “Steve, your belt?”

Steve coughed and lifted his bound hands to Bucky.

Bucky was trying very hard not to see this situation as awkward since Clint was genuinely trying to help them. He made quick work of the belt and muttered an apology when Steve winced and rubbed at his wrists. 

“There isn’t  _ time _ for apologies, get your shirt on, Steve!” Clint whined, poking his head out the door. Steve quickly followed orders and within a few moments both boys were fully clothed. 

“Shit,  _ foot steps _ !” said Clint. He glanced back at the boys. “Go pretend like you were watching TV or something, dumbasses!”

And with that, Clint slunk out into the hallway. Bucky and Steve glanced at each other and simultaneously dove for the sofa--Bucky kicked his feet up on the table and Steve leaned over his sketchbook, pencil held upside-down. 

The door swung open and Sergeant Holland entered, looking as stern as they had even seen him. 

Sergeant Holland was a big, beefy man, built like a cart horse. He was the kind of guy to go to the gym during his lunch break, followed a strict diet, and could probably crush someone’s head between his pecs if he wanted to. He was the paragon of intimidation, but after about five minutes talking to the guy anyone could see that he was as gentle as kitten. 

But not today. Holland was drawn up to his full height of six-foot-two, his face set in an intense anger. His dark eyes swept over the boys, taking in their relaxed positions, calculating something.

“Sergeant, good to see you,” Bucky called over the back of the sofa. “What’s up?”

“I got a tip off that there might have been some indecent activities going on.”

Steve had the good grace to look and sound convincingly shocked, “By ‘indecent’ you don’t mean…” 

Holland shifted uncomfortably, his jaw clenching, avoiding their eyes. “Someone complained about the noises coming from the common area. What with SHARP being such a concern nowadays, I was obligated to investigate.” 

Bucky couldn’t help it--He started laughing. Full blown laughter, head thrown back and everything. In truth he felt a little bad for Holland, having to address a possible gay sex scene involving two of his soldiers. 

“Well, um,” Holland cleared his throat and eyed the door as if it were calling his name, “As long as nobody is being raped I guess I can head out. Apologies, guys, I’ll see you day after tomorrow.”

He left the room like a bat outta heck. 

When Bucky caught his breath he looked at Steve, who had finally lost control and blushed a deep crimson, and who was eyeing him with something that was supposed to look like rage. 

“I can’t believe we almost got caught!” 

Bucky smirked. “I can’t believe you’re a screamer.”

He ducked and narrowly avoided a sketchbook to the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE  
> AND ALSO SO SORRY IT'S SHORT
> 
> after posting the last chapter my daughter fell deathly ill with some godforsaken virus that almost got her hospitalized, and I mean she's only a weeny thing (2 years old) so it was a pretty big deal, and I devoted all of my time to helping her get better... and then the *holidays* and her birthday and just--ugh
> 
> life caught up with me bigtime. But things are finally ironing out, and everyone's fine.
> 
> SO YES, this is short, but it's an apology chapter as well as a promise to have more up by the end of the week. I love you guys and the feedback has been amazing!


	8. Chapter 8

The remaining four hours of the shift went quickly and with no further sexy activities. The boys had come together almost magnetically, clashed with an explosion of passion, and were adequately worn out from the encounter. Steve was amazed that it had happened at all once he finally signed out to go back to his barracks room and crash… They had acted as if everything was normal.

Sure, Bucky still threw him those sexy smirks and every now and then he’d caught Bucky giving him bedroom eyes when he thought he wasn’t looking, but nothing felt different.

When he hit the plush comforter on his bed, Steve allowed himself just a few moments of crisis before drifting off.

_Are we in a relationship? Was that a one-time thing? Fuck buddies?_

He had steamy dreams involving Barnes for yet again.

 

* * *

 

Bucky unlocked his front door and dumped his keys on the table. Beck _woofed_ a lazy hello from the couch, and Bucky gave his head a quick pat as he made his way to the bathroom. He slid out of his uniform and turned on the shower, easing his way under the steamy spray and groaning when the knots in his shoulders finally relaxed. He leaned against the wall of the shower and allowed himself a grin.

Steve. Steve Rogers, with all his muscles and heroic jawline. The tight, hot heat of Steve’s ass hugging his dick. Steve shouting his name as he came, the heat  clamping down and triggering his own orgasm.

That had been the best fuck of his life by _far._ His mouth was watering just remembering the taste of Steve’s cock.

He wrapped a hand around his steadily hardening length and began to slowly tug. The memory of Steve writhing underneath him and whimpering for more, those big blue eyes blown dark with lust and that perfect plush mouth open and panting his name--

Bucky’s hand sped up.

If that was how Steve looked while being fucked, what would he look like when he was doing the fucking?

_Fuck_ . The hand stilled for just a moment as the memories changed to fantasies. Steve looming over him from behind and sinking that perfect, long cock into his ass. Steve saying absolutely _filthy_ things in his ear--he was pumping his length so hard now that his biceps were beginning to ache, but he didn’t care--Steve _spanking_ him while pounding into him…

Bucky threw his head back against the tile and groaned as his release spilled over his fist. He rinsed his hand and dick off in the shower spray and began to clean the rest of him, thinking very hard.

It wasn’t just the sex, he was beginning to realize. He really, _really_ wanted to wake up next to Steve. He wanted to take Beck to the dog park together. He wanted to make him dinner.

Dinner!

He finished his shower at lightning speed, toweled off hastily, and lunged for his discarded uniform pocket to retrieve his phone as Beck looked on from the couch, uninterested.

He  knew Steve probably wouldn’t see the text until tomorrow since he was probably going to sleep the day away after CQ, but it hardly mattered.

**8586 Fairview Dr. I’m making dinner and you’re gonna be there. (Please?)**

He glared at the screen for a second, wondering if it sounded too desperate or childish or anything else before saying “Fuck it” and hitting _send_.

He knew just the thing to make, too. But for now, he’d allow himself some rest after staying awake for a very eventful twenty-four hours. He flopped down on his bed, followed closely by Beck, and drifted off to a very peaceful sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve woke up blearily at 5pm the same day and checked his phone. When he saw Bucky’s name at the top of the notification he nearly dropped the phone on the concrete barracks floor, which would’ve been catastrophic.

“Dinner?” Steve muttered, scarcely believing it. A small part of him was relieved because dinner meant it wasn’t a one-time thing. He was excited to see Bucky again as well, something he wasn’t expecting to feel _after_ mind-blowing sex.

He quickly typed a reply, _**I’ll be there, name the time** _ , and jumped out of bed. He was rifling through his closet for something dinner-date appropriate when someone knocked on his door.

“Come in,” he called absently, scrutinizing a long sleeve plaid shirt.

“Hey man,” Sam said as he closed the door behind himself. “How you doing?”

“Not bad!” Steve replied, shrugging the shirt on. “I’ve got a dinner date!”

He wasn’t expecting to see the worried look cross his friend’s face. “A dinner date with the Corporal?”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “Yeah, why?”

“You know there’s regulations against that for a reason, right?” Sam said gently. “And since when are you two a couple? A week ago you hated his guts.”

Steve frowned. Yes, Sam had a point. “We got to talking and found out we had a lot in common. And I like him, Sam.”

“And the regulations?” Sam asked.

“It’s not like we’re getting married, it’s just a dinner…” Steve trailed off, doubt blooming in his chest like an unwelcome weed.

“Look, I just came here to give you this. You left it in the common room,” Sam handed Steve his sketchbook. At the panicked look on Steve’s face, Sam added, “Nobody saw it, it was tucked into the couch. But you just gotta be careful, man. I know the drawings in there and there are lots of guys in these barracks that would treat you like shit if they knew.”

Steve swallowed nervously, his previous good mood deflating. “Yeah… I just--I don’t know, I just really like him.”

“Then go to your dinner,” Sam shrugged. “But if it gets more serious you guys are gonna need a plan. Dont-ask-don’t-tell might be old news but the homophobes are still in the army. _Be careful_.”

“I will,” Steve promised, giving Sam a smile that was more of a grimace. “And thanks for the advice.”

“And here’s another bit of advice,” Sam smirked as he made for the door again, “Don’t wear khaki’s with that shirt, you’ll look like a grandpa.”

“There’s nothing wrong with khaki pants,” Steve laughed. “They’re _classy_.”

“Okay Grandpa,” Sam snarked, and the door closed behind him with a resolute click.

Steve stood still for a moment, digesting everything Sam had told him. His phone pinged, and it was a reply from Bucky:

**How about 1830?**

He glanced back into his closet and frowned.

“I don’t have anything _but_ khaki pants…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised! Im excited to write the dinner date scene because there's gonna be more dog stuff and cute fluff and MAYBE sexy times.  
> But thank you all for your support and understanding about the delays, it was so sweet and made me smile and not feel like shite. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> And you can find me on tumblr under the same username, Catphistopheles. Feel free to contact me for any reason. :D


	9. Chapter 9

 

Parmesan chicken piccata was Bucky’s signature “impressive” dish. He had made it for his mother’s birthday. He had made it for the army potlucks. In short, Bucky was no amateur when it came to this specific dish.

 

The blackened lumps on the serving platter said otherwise.

 

Bucky groaned and buried his face in his hands. He just didn’t get it. He was a parmesan chicken piccata _expert_ , why had it burned tonight of all nights? _How_ had it burned tonight of all nights? He followed the recipe to a T! The clock over the stove said it was almost time for Steve to arrive--and that’s _if_ he wasn’t the type to show up early. And that was a big “if.” They were military, after all.

 

Beck shuffled into the kitchen, snuffled wetly at the scent of burnt cheese, and gave Bucky a look that said it all.

 

“Nope.” Bucky tossed the contents of the platter into the bin, his mouth set in a grim line. “Nope nope nope. Just gonna order a pizza and say it’s Digiorno or something.”

 

He made for his phone and the doorbell rang. Beck did his customary single, slow _woof_ and plodded off to lay on the couch as if the effort had exhausted him, his obligation to guard the house finished.

 

Lifting his eyes to the heavens in an attempt to plead to whatever higher beings were pulling the strings, Bucky turned on his heel and went to the front door.

 

He opened it and there stood Steve, pretty as a picture, a deep purple box clutched under one arm, a nervous grin plastered on his face. Bucky’s heart pounded--either from nerves or excitement, he couldn’t tell--but he smiled back nonetheless.

 

“Thanks for comin’,” he said hoarsely, stepping back to allow Steve entry. He cleared his throat and continued, “There was kind of an issue with dinner--”

 

“Is something burning?” Steve said, all concern and no ridicule, lifting his head to smell the air. Bucky got an eyeful of that fantastic jawline and felt the urge to nibble on it.

 

“Uh, yeah. I make this one dish, it’s great, but today it fucked me over.” He rubbed at his neck, eyes on his feet. Just his luck, he finally finds a sexy man to take home--someone he _wants_ to impress, no less--and the first impression he gives is that he’s hopeless in the kitchen.

 

Steve surveyed Bucky’s down-turned face with sympathy. “Do you want to order a pizza? There’s a new place in town that everyone’s talking about.”

 

Bucky could’ve kissed him.

 

 _Hell with it_ , he thought, and then he _did_ kiss him.

 

It was gentle and appreciative, a soft press of lips and a hint of tongue. Steve hummed with pleasure and shifted the box under his arm so that he could hold on to it and place a hand on Bucky’s hip. His other arm went around Bucky’s neck, pulling him closer, and Bucky felt a distinct rush of blood going south.

 

He took that as his cue to break the kiss, but not to pull away. About an inch from Steve’s face, from his _lips_ , Bucky muttered, “Do you have the number?”

 

Steve chuckled. “I’ll text Clint. He has all the takeout places programmed in his contacts.”

 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or feel sorry for the bastard.” Bucky reluctantly stepped back to let Steve fish his phone out of his pockets.

 

“Oh--here.” Steve shoved the purple box at Bucky, suddenly embarrassed, and began texting furiously on his phone. “I’m not sure what you drink but you didn’t really seem like a wine kind of guy.”

 

It was Crown Royal.

 

“Jesus, Steve, this shit is expensive! You didn’t have to gouge your paycheck for me.”

Steve pretended not to hear him as he dialed the newly acquired number. “Hi, I'd like to place an order. Sure, go ahead. I'm on hold, what do you like on your pizza?”

 

Bucky smirked at Steve’s stubbornness and gestured towards the kitchen. He put the box on the counter and leaned against it, thinking. “I’m a mushrooms and bacon kind of guy. You?”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

Bucky fished his debit card out of his wallet and pressed it into Steve's hand. He saw Steve about to protest and gave him a look that immediately shut him up.

 

"I  _insist_. You bought the booze."

 

"Hm, an incredibly handsome man is handing me his debit card. A longtime fantasy of mine."

 

Bucky blinked in disbelief. "Is that  _sass_ coming from your mouth, Rogers?" 

 

Steve shushed him. "Yes I'd like to place an order. Delivery. One large..." 

 

Bucky left Steve to complete the order. He sauntered into the living room floating on cloud nine and sank onto the couch with a stupid grin glued to his face. Steve was too good to be true… He was kind, helpful, smart, adorable, the sexiest man he’d ever slept with, liked animals, was physically fit, and now he found out that the dude had a snarky side. _Yeah,_ Bucky thought, _I’m falling hard._ _He saved my dog’s life, how many guys do you find that do that shit?_

 

The dog in question snorted loudly in his sleep from his favorite seat in the house--the squishy blue armchair in the corner next to the TV. Bucky deadpanned.

 

“Yer damn cute, but cut down on the gross noises while I’m tryin’ to woo this guy.”

 

“Woo?” Steve laughed from the kitchen doorway. “Who says ‘woo’ anymore? The pizza’s ordered. Said they’d be here in about forty-five minutes,” he added before sitting next to Bucky on the couch.

 

_ Forty-five minutes? _ Bucky gulped. How was he going to keep from defiling Steve until after dinner? Forty five minutes was a long time… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the largest dickwad for leaving you guys hanging. All I have in my defense are the typical excuses that life sort of crushed me for a bit. 
> 
> Also I'm definitely going to try to write another sex scene tonight, _possibly_ with top!Steve. We'll see.
> 
> ALSO ALSO! I got to go to the Chromatic Dragon, the bar featured in the earlier chapters, for the first time! It was better than I'd imagined. For anyone in the Savannah, GA area I highly recommend you visit.
> 
> Anywho thanks for your patience, and as always, you can find me on tumblr as [Catphistopheles](http://www.catphistopheles.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to start by apologizing. I just realized it’s been a full year since the last update and I can’t believe it. Or, looking back at 2016, maybe I can. This year has torn so many people down to their bare minimum for mental health and left them just barely chugging along on a day to day basis. I believe in the metaphysical to a point but I’m not sure where to start looking for answers as to what the fuck made so much shit go down at once. Did Mercury multiply while we weren’t looking and send all of its Mercur-ettes into retrograde simultaneously?
> 
> But I just want to remind anyone who is still reading this, anyone who is struggling, that you are loved and valuable and valid and that I’m always here to talk no matter what is going on in my own life. Without further ado, a happy chapter:

 

 

Forty-five minutes  _ flew _ by once they started talking. Bucky was elated to learn that they shared similar tastes in music, movies, games, gaming platforms, politics, even how they took their  _ coffee _ . He realized it sounded like something out of a cheesy Harlequin romance novel, sounded too  _ convenient,  _ but he wasn’t going to knock it if it was going to be this good.

 

They settled down on the couch with the TV tuned to a local ballgame and by the time the doorbell rang Bucky, Steve, and Beck had gravitated into a very cozy slouched pile. It had been absolute  _ ages _ since Bucky had felt this comfortable with another human being and he was thrilled that Steve wasn’t grossed out by Beck’s constant state of drooling, which had always been a prelude to a breakup in the past.

 

But now, the pizza.

 

Steve gently pried Beck off of them long enough to let Bucky up to get to the door, chuckling when Beck let out a whine of protest. Something in Bucky’s gut warmed watching how good they were together, and he momentarily mused as to whether this was how single parents felt when their children got along with their new significant other. He opened the door with a silly grin glued to his face, and then jumped.

 

“Well howdy-doody Corporal!” Clint gave a sarcastic salute with the hand not holding the box of steaming pizza.

 

“What the  _ fuck _ are you doing here, Clint?” Bucky demanded, a hand pressed to his chest to calm his racing heart. He heard an incredulous noise from the living room and another whine from Beck, and then Steve joined him at the door.

 

“What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing here, Clint?” Steve demanded, albeit more amicably.

 

Clint motioned to the pizza box, and then to his PizzaHut cap. “I’m delivering a pizza to a paying customer.”

 

There was a moment’s pause .

 

“But you’re already employed,” Bucky said flatly. “With the  _ army _ .”

 

Clearly growing tired of holding the box, Clint shoved it into Steve’s arms and had the good grace to look indignant. “Whaaat, I can’t moonlight? I gotta afford my games somehow and  _ god _ knows the good ol’ U-S-of-A doesn’t pay much.”

 

“But--” Steve began, but Clint cut him off.

 

“That’ll be 15.99 please. And you better give me a big tip after I saved your asses with Holland the other day.”

 

It was Bucky’s turn to look indignant. “You’re blackmailing us?”

 

“Lil’ ol’ me? Good heavens no. But then again,” he added with a slightly malicious glance at Steve, “Someone  _ did _ throw out my magazine…”

 

“Oh for the love of all that is holy,  _ here _ ,” Steve sighed, shoving a twenty into Clint’s outstretched hand. Clint smiled like the cat that caught the canary.

 

“On behalf of the lovely folks over at pizza hut, I thank you for your patronage and--”

 

Bucky promptly slammed the door in his face and sagged against it.

 

“What the  _ hell _ is wrong with this post? I thought Alaska would be weird with the cabin fever and no sun but  _ damn _ …”

 

Steve chuckled and plopped the pizza down on the counter to rifle through the cabinets for plates. “Don’t ask me, this is my first duty station. I just assumed they were all this ass-backwards.”

 

At the mention of  _ ass _ , Bucky’s eyes flew down to Steve’s rear. His mouth watered and it had nothing to do with the scent of freshly baked pizza. The unique taste of Steve from their last encounter was still ripe in his mind and he definitely wanted more, and soon.

 

He quickly squashed his desire. Today was about treating Steve  _ right _ . About showing him Bucky wanted more than sex. He had to set a good impression. He was going to eat his pizza, watch a movie on the couch, and give Steve a demure kiss on the cheek like a goddamn gentleman and that was  _ it _ .

 

Suddenly there was plated pizza hovering under his nose. He glanced up and found steve half a foot away, looking at him with a smile that knocked the breath outta him. It was the kind of smile that conveyed everything without saying a word and Bucky  _ hoped _ he was reading it right. He gently took the plate from Steve and leaned forward to press a soft, lingering kiss on Steve’s lips. His lover reciprocated just as softly and Bucky hummed happily into the kiss.

 

They separated, gazed at each other for a moment, easy smiles on their faces .

 

“Netflix and chill?” Steve murmured jokingly against Bucky’s lips.

 

Bucky shook his head. “Netflix and treat you like a King.”

 

“Ooh, even better,” Steve said with a smile, and leaned in to sample Bucky’s lips again.

 

They would have to work out what they would do for this relationship, how they would go about it. There was a chain of command, there were protocols, and with the president-elect coming into power there was bound to be harassment or worse.

 

The plate was carefully pulled out of his hands and set on the counter with a soft  _ clunk _ . Steve's hands returned to cup Bucky's face.

 

There was no guarantee any of this could work, there was no guarantee they’d be at the same duty station for any length of time, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t be sent into a warzone at any point in the near future.

 

But as the kiss deepened Bucky felt his racing mind start to ease up. The warmth emanating from Steve, the whisper of their lips meeting and their breath mingling, it was all anchoring him to the _now_. They could do this.

 

His hands threaded through Steve’s hair and he realized he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world with anyone else in the world, just here with Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love is love is love is love
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Bucky had /intended/ to keep it G-Rated. But he didn't actually try very hard, did he?

Bucky wasn’t really  _ virginal _ in any sense. He’d had enough partners to know the difference between good sex and ok-ish sex and downright awful sex. His first sexual encounter had fallen somewhere in the ok-ish range, not that he’d known enough to classify it at all at the time, but it wasn’t cringe worthy or awful and was done with someone he liked and trusted. He had been very grateful for that.

 

They were just 5 minutes in and something told Bucky he’d be making a new category: Mind blowing sex. The previous encounter with Steve had topped anything he’d ever experienced and their current makeout session on the couch was climbing the ranks and they  _ hadn’t even taken their clothes off _ . 

 

Steve had taken the reins this time and Bucky allowed himself a moment to contemplate whether to ever take them back in the future because this man could seriously kiss. 

 

His sculpted lips caressing Bucky’s, his hands going between gently cupping Bucky’s jaw and angling it this way and that to deepen the kiss, and travelling down to sensually graze the plane of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. Their legs tangled, their hips flexed in search of more friction, and Bucky tugged at the back of Steve’s hair to indicate the need for air.

 

They broke apart and Bucky groaned breathlessly. Steve’s eyes, darkened with lust, bore into his own. 

 

“I just can’t get enough of you,” Steve rasped, ducking to press luscious, lingering kisses down the column of Bucky’s neck. His teeth dug gently into the junction of his neck and shoulder, which had always been a  _ spot _ of Bucky’s, and he writhed on the couch, moaned like a harlot, didn’t give a damn how desperate he looked, wanted  _ more _ . He pawed at the hem of Steve’s shirt and mentally bemoaned the excessive buttons on menswear. 

 

Steve chuckled, sat up, and unbuttoned his shirt. Bucky returned the favor by whipping off his henley and he started to unbutton his jeans but Steve grabbed his hands and shook his head.

 

“Wha-- _ oh _ \--”

 

Steve was undoing his pants. With his  _ teeth _ . His thighs clenched with anticipation. He’d do anything--absolutely anything--to have Steve’s mouth on his dick. He’d crawl on his hands and knees. He’d beg shamelessly. He’d sell Beck.

 

“Good god,  _ Steve!” _

 

Well he wouldn’t sell Beck, but he’d do almost anything.

 

“Can’t wait to taste you,” Steve ground out, shoving Bucky’s pants down the rest of the way, followed by his boxer briefs, and finally his dick bobbed free at full attention. 

 

Steve licked his lips and Bucky’s brain short circuited for a moment, but then those gorgeous lips were wrapped around him and it was all he could do not to thrust up and into the velvety, wet, tight heat of his mouth. His head flew back against the arm of the couch and he squeezed his eyes shut, savoring every bob of Steve’s head, every firm suck, every lick, every noise. Steve’s tongue laved at the slit and he saw stars.

 

He cried out, loudly, when Steve deep throated his dick  _ and _ gently rubbed at his entrance with a spit slicked thumb. The dual sensations were driving him very close to climax, but he didn’t want to come 60 seconds in like a virgin. But good god--Steve gently pressed the tip of his thumb in and with a debauched cry Bucky was coming in his mouth.

 

Steve swallowed every last drop and let Bucky’s softening dick loose with a lurid  _ pop _ noise. He levered himself back up to give Bucky an absolutely filthy kiss, and Bucky felt his dick stirring again as he tasted himself on Steve’s tongue. Steve pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips.

 

“You taste so. Damn. Good.”

 

This man was going to be the death of him. Who knew this blushing jerk from his battalion had such a filthy mouth? Who knew he was such a pro at sucking dick?

 

Once he had finally caught his breath, Bucky lifted up onto his elbows and gazed down at Steve’s very prominent boner, still encased in deliciously tight pants. His mouth watered. He still remembered the taste of Steve, and  _ boy _ did he want a second course. 

 

“Mind if I return the favor?” Bucky said, his voice a touch hoarse. He didn’t miss the small shiver that went through Steve and he knew he had been picturing the previous encounter as well. “After all, we were supposed to do ‘Netflix and Treat You Like a King’.” 

 

Steve grinned. “You treated me like a king by letting me taste you, baby.”

 

Bucky blinked at the pet name. He always hated pet names but this time he… didn’t. It sounded right, coming from Steve. He smiled as Steve continued.

 

“And I don’t know about you, but I actually am a little hungry. Maybe we could actually eat the pizza before we continue?”

 

Bucky full on laughed. They had forgotten the pizza.

 

“We keep doing this backwards,” he managed between bouts of laughter. Steve looked confused, so Bucky elaborated, “I invited you tonight so I could actually treat you right. I didn’t want you to think we were just sex or anything, but you get here and this happens anyways!”

 

He gestured down at his pants, still caught around his knees. Steve started to laugh as well.

 

“Well don’t feel bad, I’m the one that initiated it. I couldn’t help it. You looked--” he ducked down again and caught Bucky’s lip between his teeth, tugged gently, and pressed a chaste kiss onto his lips, “ _ Delectable _ .” 

 

Flustered, Bucky exhaled shakily. They looked at each other for another moment, and then Steve climbed off the couch. “Pizza.” 

 

“Right. Movie.” Bucky started up the PS4 and loaded Netflix. “How do you feel about The Mummy?”

 

The microwave hummed as Steve reheated the pizza. “You literally cannot go wrong with Brendan Fraser in suspenders.”

 

“Agreed.” He paused the movie and waited for Steve to return, another dopey grin on his face.

 

Steve entered with two plates of steaming pizza balanced on one arm and two beers on the other. They sat cozied up to one another on the couch, and pressed play on the movie. 

 

He hadn’t had so much fun in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun story: around christmas last year I received an $800 gaming computer from my husband so I could play Skyrim on high detail mode without it crashing or lagging, and it was GLORIOUS. Did you know there are actual animated ants on the trees and ground? I mean jfc what overachieving rendering bullshit is Bethesda even on?
> 
> Anyways. Last week something insidious and electrical went horribly wrong and my adapter and port melted and fused and smoked profusely and I had to send my baby in to the manufacturer and hope they replace the components without going through my pictures because there's some...shall we say, "delicate" material in there? Namely some practice sketches of Bucky and Steve doing the do in various filthy poses completely nude? 
> 
> To the tech support at Sager Laptops, I am so, /so/ sorry. 
> 
> Meanwhile I also lost all of my sexy music playlists for writing sex scenes so I was stuck writing this while listening to fucking Italian Opera songs because my only alternative is hours of Hamilton and that doesn't quite set the right mood. I want them to make dirty dirty love to one another, not start a revolution, you feel? So if this chapter sounds different from the last sex scene, blame opera.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Follow me on tumblr, I'm not sure how to add a link to my page but I'm Catphistopheles on there as well. :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the grenade range goes horribly wrong

From that first date on the couch with pizza, things only got better. 

 

Steve would typically spend the night with Bucky since the barracks were too small to go unnoticed, they’d leave 15 minutes apart so as not to arouse suspicion, do PT, and then have one-on-one time in the bay showers. There was just something about post workout sex that was better than regular sex… 

 

And Steve was happy to report that their relationship had no effect on their work whatsoever. Steve stayed in the med station most of the time and Bucky in the offices, so they rarely crossed paths during the day. The only people who knew about them were Clint and Sam, and Steve trusted them both enough to not spread shit around. Life was  _ good _ . 

 

The day came to go to the range. There was a certain feel that came when a range day was announced--equal parts excitement and dread. Excitement because it was something outside the office they could do, there were explosions or guns, and it made things feel more official. Dread because, well… ranges took eight hours, and only 3 or 4 of those hours were spent on the range actively firing ammo. The rest of the time was to clear the vehicles for transport, load the soldiers, drive to the range, unload the people, complete the safety brief, and sit around for  _ hours _ waiting for the ammo to be delivered. Then once the shooting or firing was complete you had to go around and collect all the casings or grenade bits--yes,  _ all of them _ \--and reload the vehicles, drive back, unload, and drop the LMTVs back off at the motor pool. 

 

In other words it was a whole lot of tedious checklists and sitting around in full armor in the sun and waiting. Nobody actually  _ enjoyed _ range days.

 

Of course there was the thrill of hitting the target or feeling the percussion of a grenade exploding, which is always fun in a morbid sense. They tried not to dwell on the fact that one day there might be  _ people _ on the other end of the ammo. The reality of it would tear you to shreds if you thought too much.

 

Steve swiped at the sweat trickling down his cheek. It was quickly reaching ninety degrees with humidity at 70%. It was like sitting in a pot of boiling soup, but in kevlar. The medic tent had fans hooked up to generators in case anyone got heat stroke, but it didn’t help much. 

 

Sam was stretched out on the ground with his eyes closed, trying to catch a few Z’s before they had to pack up and go back home. The rest of the medics were outside to get better cell reception, tapping away at apps or texting, and a few had volunteered to fire grenades. 

 

But not Steve. He had seen what grenades could do to a person during his training, and it wasn’t pretty. He attended ranges for the medic tent and fired when his score card was up, but he’d never,  _ ever _ , volunteer. His phone buzzed from deep in his lower leg pocket and he fished it out. It was a text from Bucky. 

 

**You should get out here and throw a few. Great stress relief.**

 

Steve suppressed a smirk. Bucky had been handed a project at work with barely any time until the deadline and had therefore had to cancel a few of their movie nights this week. He didn’t blame his boyfriend for needed to blow things up. 

 

**You should focus. You get blown to bits there’s not much I can do. Dammit Jim, I’m a field medic, not a miracle worker.**

 

He snuck the Star Trek TOS reference in just for Bucky. He had recently discovered Bucky’s love of science fiction and had gone out of his way to marathon as much of the show as he could on his lunch breaks so he could discuss it. On top of gaining something in common with Bucky, Steve had found that he loved the show as well.

 

The three **“...”** showed up and undulated for a moment.

 

_ “Barnes, COVER COVER COVER--” _

 

Steve heard Sergeant Holland shouting something else milliseconds before an abnormally loud explosion that was much too close. 

 

The three  **“...”** disappeared the same second. 

 

Sam darted up from the ground and sprinted out of the tent, shouted  _ “Grab the med bag! _ ” At Steve.

 

As though in a daze, in slow motion, in a dream, Steve stood and snatched the bag up, ran as fast as he could after Sam and towards the explosion. He squinted against the bright sun and saw a body lying limp on the crunchy brown grass up ahead, the area swarming with their coworkers as the other medics shoved through the chaos. Steve saw Sam crouch by the familiar body and glance up at him, eyes frantic and urgent, gesturing wildly for him to hurry with the med bag. Steve was trying, really  _ trying _ to get his legs to work faster, but it felt as though his boots were full of cement. 

 

It couldn’t be Bucky, it couldn’t be him. 

 

_ Not Bucky, not Bucky, not Bucky, please, God, not Bucky… _

 

Finally he was close enough to see the familiar face of his lover, rivulets of blood streaking across his handsome face, little errant shards of metal embedded in his face and hands, and singe marks on his sleeves. 

 

_ No _

 

Someone was yanking the bag out of his hands. Someone else was firmly grasping Steve’s hand. He turned and saw Clint staring at him from inches away, his eyes intense and assessing. And then in a big  _ wooshing _ noise the sound around him returned and he heard, above the chaos, Clint’s voice.

 

Clint was speaking in a low tone, just loud enough for Steve to hear.

 

“...need to decide if you’re able to do this or if you’re too close to do it, Steve, this is bad. Sergeant Holland does not need to find out about this now,  _ do you hear me _ ?”

 

“Yes--yes, I--” Steve’s lips were numb. He glanced back at Bucky’s inert form, partially covered by Sam, who was irrigating the wounds, and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can do this.”

 

Clint let go of his hand and stepped back, merging with the crowd.

 

“Someone call an ambulance,” Steve barked at nobody in particular. Someone told him one had already been called, and he knelt by Bucky’s hands and grabbed the other bottle of irrigation fluid and started to work on cleaning the wounds on his palms. 

 

_ It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, _ said the panicked little voice in the back of his head.  _ He must’ve been just within the casualty zone. This wasn’t deadly. He was at risk for burns, bleeding out, scarring, shock, but not--death.  _

 

But how had this happened? The ranges were down to a science. They had removed almost every threat of injury from them. There was a process. This shouldn’t have  happened. 

 

Sirens sounded in the distance, growing louder with every passing second. Steve allowed himself to breathe, relieved. They were ill equipped to finish fixing Bucky up here in the field but he’d be fine at the hospital.

 

The EMTs dashed out of the ambulance and took over. Sam tugged Steve to his feet and walked them back to watch, his hand firm on Steve’s elbow. The knot returned to Steve’s chest and he looked up to see Sergeant Holland staring right at him with an indiscernible expression on his face.

 

The knot tightened. 

 

Bucky was carted off into the ambulance and it sped off, sirens blaring, to the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a good hour and a half of pelting my husband with questions about grenades, LMTVs, grenade injuries, and range etiquette to get this chapter typed out. End result: He's now completely sick of the word "grenade" and put a question limit on my next chapter. -_-  
> I had to make sure Bucky wouldn't DIE but would be injured enough to be knocked out and sent to the hospital, and apparently grenades aren't that forgiving. Why not use bullets? Why not send them to a gun range? Because apparently the army has made it almost physically impossible to be injured on a gun range nowadays, and accuracy is a driving force in this fic, dammit!
> 
> (didn't stop a soldier from getting injured on a gun range earlier this year though. It made headlines on FB and everything. THAT'S how unlikely it is.) 
> 
> Good news: Sager just received my laptop. Just now. Nearly two weeks after I mailed it out.
> 
> Also good news: FFXV is amazing and gorgeous and breathtaking and I'm in love with it.
> 
> Somewhat bad news: It's distractingly gorgeous and I might procrastinate on chapters for a week until the novelty wears off.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and you can find me on Tumblr as Catphistopheles.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a very short story update due to personal biz, there's more coming soon!

Paperwork. Who the fuck hands out  _ paperwork _ after an accident? Bucky could be dying for all Steve knew, and since he wasn’t on Bucky’s emergency contact list, he wouldn’t be told anything even if he called the hospital to ask. Nobody but Clint and Sam knew about their relationship, so Steve had to grit his teeth and school his expression into something neutral as Sergeant Holland handed him the stack of paperwork when they got back to the office. 

 

He had been staring at the same line on page 6 of 20 for the past hour, every second ticking away in silent agony, and he had to toss his phone three desks over to stop himself from checking it every other second. 

 

Steve huffed and tried to refocus in on the meticulous boxes on the medical forms. When was Bucky Born…?

 

His phone buzzed and it was all Steve could do to keep himself from vaulting over the desk to reach it in time. The caller ID showed Bucky’s smirking face from a baseball game a week ago. The breath caught in Steve’s chest as he swiped to answer the call

 

“Buck?” Steve whispered, heart pounding. 

 

“Stevie.” Bucky sounded awful. His voice was barely audible and scratchy and had a slight slur to it, probably from pain meds. 

 

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, relieved. If they let him have his phone it couldn’t be too bad. “How you holdin’ up? What’s the damage report?”

 

There was a soft groan on the other end. “Extensive. I’m pretty mangled up, Stevie. They got me on cloud 9 though, so I can’t complain.”

 

“Can you have visitors?”

 

“Till eight pm. Be there or be square,” Bucky chuckled, and then groaned again.

 

“I’ll be there. They gave me a mountain of paperwork for your hazard report though, so get some rest while I finish up.” 

 

“Roger, Rogers.” Bucky’s speech was slurring more noticeably now as he drifted towards blissful unconsciousness, and Steve took the liberty of hanging up first. 

 

With a new determination, Steve turned his attention back to the paperwork and let his pen fly across the pages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The army gave us 2 weeks notice to schedule house inspections, movers, and move to a new state. It's been H E L L these past two weeks, and it's only just now calming down... But on the upside WE HAVE A MUCH NICER, BIGGER HOUSE. I can see the grocery store from my house and walk there at a moments notice if I run out of baking supplies. There's actual SEASONS now, and we're supposed to get snow next weekend. So I guess it was worth the stress...kind of. I suppose. I'm still pissed at the army for now, though.
> 
> Anyways like I said there'll be more chapters incoming. I just wanted to let you guys know that Bucky is gonna be alright, all things considered. *wink wink*


End file.
